Chapter 152 ‒ Reflecting Flame
Chapter 152 ‒ Reflecting Flame
Tyler lunged.
Red lightning rippled across his armour as his scythe arced through the air, a golden crescent howling toward Miridiel’s chest. The blade hummed with ancient power — but it met nothing.
With the ease of a falling feather, Miridiel slid sideways, and in the same motion, twisted his upper body just enough to evade the blow. The air crackled where the blade passed, missing its mark by a whisper.
A glint of light flashed across the mirrored walls — the slash captured and replayed a hundredfold in fractured echoes. Every reflection showed the exact moment Tyler missed.
Then came the retaliation.
Miridiel’s pale lips pulled back in a wide, eerie smile — too calm, too deliberate.
“Pathe-tic.”
He raised one hand.
[Miridiel Activated Skill: Forcepush]
A burst of invisible energy detonated outward — blunt and brutal.
The impact hit Tyler dead-on, flattening him against the air like a thunderclap made solid. He was flung backward, body spinning like a ragdoll in a hurricane, wind howling past his ears.
He slammed into the mirrored wall with a shattering crash.
Cracks spiderwebbed through the glass, silver and white lines zigzagging outward. Dozens of fractured Tylers stared back at him from the splintered surface, each distorted and broken.
He dropped to his knees, breath knocked away. Pain bloomed through his spine and ribs like wildfire.
What the hell was that…?
Forcepush shouldn’t have been that powerful — it was meant for spacing, not devastation. But Miridiel had used it like a hammer from the gods.
Tyler braced himself against the fractured mirror wall, panting. The glass was cool under his glove, vibrating faintly with the aftershock.
Then a sudden light flickered across its surface — behind him.
A jagged bolt of lightning, reflected just above his shoulder.
Eyes wide, Tyler ducked and rolled to the side.
The lightning bolt screamed past where his head had been just moments ago, scorching the marble and leaving a trail of crackling heat in its wake. Static sizzled through the air, and tiny sparks danced across the glass.
Tyler landed in a crouch, glancing over his shoulder as the lightning faded behind him — but before he could fully rise, a sudden hiss split the air.
A sharp, needle-like spike flew out from the mirrored wall, glinting with unnatural sheen — and struck him square in the side.
[Status: Affected by [Poison Sting] — Target will lose 100 HP every second. Duration: 00:00:05]
Tyler gasped. His legs gave way. A rush of cold surged through his veins like liquid frost.
He hit the floor hard, coughing blood onto the polished white tiles as a sickly green glow crept across his torso.
His vision blurred. His muscles spasmed.
[Activated Skill: Undying Tenacity]
A flicker of golden light pulsed through his chest. The poison slowed. Then halted.
Breath surged back into his lungs like a tide reversed.
He pushed himself up with a trembling arm, wiped the blood from his chin with the back of his hand, and locked eyes with Miridiel through the smoke and reflections.
“If you want to play like that…” he muttered, rising to his feet, breath still ragged, “then I’m not going to hold back either.”
Tyler disappeared in a blink of crimson lightning, reappearing thirty feet away near one of the mirrored arches. He thrust out his hand.
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[Activated Skill: Fireball]
Flames gathered in his palm, swirling violently, then launched — three searing orbs of fire streaking across the sanctum toward Miridiel.
The mirrored surfaces caught their glow, amplifying the red and orange trails, painting the domed chamber with streaks of molten light.
But Miridiel didn’t move.
He stood motionless in the centre of the room, cloak fluttering faintly, hands at his sides.
The fireballs struck.
Three direct hits.
The chamber trembled slightly as explosions rocked the floor, glass fragments raining down like burning snow from the ceiling. Shards clinked and danced across the marble.
Tyler squinted through the haze.
And then — his heart sank.
Miridiel emerged from the smoke completely unscathed. His armour remained untouched. Not a scorch mark. Not a dent.
[Miridiel HP: 999899/999999]
[Miridiel Activated Skill: Rejuvenate]
[Miridiel HP: 999999/999999]
A soft blue glow pulsed across his body and faded.
He stared at Tyler, expression: bored disappointment. As if Tyler’s strongest attack was little more than a warm-up stretch.
Tyler’s stomach twisted. This… this is impossible. He’s not just strong — he’s unkillable.
But Miridiel only smiled wider.
“You… call that a fire… ball?” he said slowly. “Then… watch thi-is.”
[Miridiel Activated Skill: Fireball]
A bright orange light flared in his palm.
Except this one was different.
The flame gathered with a deep rumble, sucking in air like a vacuum. The temperature spiked. Waves of dry heat rolled across the chamber as a condensed sphere of fire — ten times larger than Tyler’s — formed in his hand. The core glowed a searing white, the outer shell pulsed like magma.
“Fire.”
The fireball roared forward — not fast, but deliberate — carving a straight path through the air like a falling meteor.
Its light scattered off every mirrored surface, turning the whole chamber into a furnace of refracted fire.
Tyler leapt sideways, rolled, and threw up his arms as the fireball slammed into the far wall.
BOOM.
The explosion shook the ground beneath his feet. A wave of heat surged outward, turning a quarter of the chamber black and warping the mirror panels into bubbling slag.
Smoke billowed upward. The glass crackled and hissed.
Tyler staggered up, coughing.
His eyes burned. His armour steamed. The mirrored floor beneath his boots shimmered with molten reflections.
“I can’t beat him like this… He’s faster… stronger… everything is on a different scale.”
He clenched his fists.
“There has to be a weakness. There’s always a weakness.”
[Activated Skill: Raven’s Eye]
His left eye darkened, then surged with crimson flame. The familiar threads of red energy laced outward, crackling like veins of lightning across his vision. The world sharpened — every breath, every flicker of movement rendered in unnerving clarity — as Tyler fixed his gaze on Miridiel’s form.
He waited for the glow. The pulse. The vulnerable nodes he had come to rely on.
But there was nothing.
No highlighted arteries. No critical joints. No soft glimmers to mark a weakness.
Only stark white. A flawless silhouette. A mirror without imperfection.
Like targeting a ghost painted on glass.
A cold wave of dread slid down Tyler’s spine. His throat tightened. The scythe in his hands felt suddenly heavier.
“…No,” he whispered. “It can’t be…”
Miridiel tilted his head, amused. Then, he laughed — a low, grating sound like steel scraping bone.
“You… are begi-ning to un-dersta-and, arr-en’t you? There is… no flaw. Because I… am per-fection.”
In a blink, he vanished.
Tyler tensed, looking around.
The mirrors showed dozens of Miridiels — standing, watching, smiling — but only one was real.
He turned his back to the nearest mirror for defence.
Schkk—!
Pain.
A cold, piercing sensation tore into his back.
Tyler’s eyes widened.
He turned — slowly — to see Miridiel’s hand and scythe emerging through the mirror itself, buried deep between his shoulder blades.
Blood trickled down, sizzling against the hot metal.
He gasped — not just from the pain, but the realization: Even the walls aren’t safe.
“Got you,” Tyler growled.
[Activated Skill: Firestorm]
An inferno erupted around him, flames spiralling outward like a solar eruption.
The temperature in the sanctum soared. Mirror panels cracked, shattered, and exploded across the walls and ceiling.
And yet — from the fire’s centre — a silhouette emerged.
Miridiel walked through it like a man strolling through mist.
“I admit… that last attack… it had… some bite.”
He smiled wider, unaffected, untouched. Not even a scorch on his cloak.
Tyler stood, eyes burning.
His fingers hovered over [Gigantify] — and hesitated.
No. Not yet.
Instead —
[Activated Skill: Triplicate]
A circle of golden light flared beneath his feet. Three shapes rose from the summoning glyph, armour-clad and armed — exact clones of himself.
[Summoning: Player Clone, Level 74 x3]
The clones wasted no time, scattering into formation. Tyler fell back, clutching his side.
Miridiel tilted his head, curiously. Then he reached forward and touched the blade of his scythe — the golden edge flickering with faint heat.
He whispered one word.
“Love-ly.”
Then he vanished.
One second.
One blink.
And a clone’s head rolled across the floor.
[Miridiel Activated Skill: Annihilation]
[Player Clone #2 has perished.]
A black sphere formed midair — swirling like ink in water — and began absorbing the body. The clone’s limbs dissolved into mist, drawn into the orb until nothing remained.
Tyler’s breath caught.
Annihilation…? No… that’s supposed to be a 0.05% chance!
Then — the second clone fell. A clean cut from neck to shoulder.
[Miridiel Activated Skill: Annihilation]
[Player Clone #3 has perished.]
And the third. Cut clean in half.
[Miridiel Activated Skill: Annihilation]
[Player Clone #1 has perished.]
Three black spheres spun in the air for a moment, then faded.
Tyler was alone again.
Miridiel hovered just above the floor, cloak billowing, scythe humming with power.
His voice was soft now — almost gentle.
“And now… it’s your turn… Taaaylar.”
He surged forward, too fast to see.
The floor shattered beneath him.
Reflections burst across the mirrored walls as both of their images converged into a blur of motion. The mirrors didn’t just reflect — they fractured, blurring the edges of reality itself.